Loves Way
by xox Moony xox
Summary: Ron and Hermione are finally given the chance to explore their newly found relationship, but is actually being together as easy as they first thought it would be? Major DH spoilers, so the full summary is found inside for now.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter is not mine. If it was, I'd be rich, which I can assure you that I am most definitely not.

**Summary: **Following Fred's funeral, Ron and Hermione are finally given the chance and the time to explore their newly found relationship, but is actually being together as easy as they first thought it would be?

**Chapter 1**

The rain had started to fall the moment Mrs Weasley had placed a solitary white rose onto her son's grave. It had been threatening for hours, the sky darkening as the minutes passed by and thunder rumbling over in the distant hills. But, much to the family's relief, the rain had managed to hold off… up until now at least. Droplets of water continued to fall onto the recently disturbed soil, each one coming faster and harder than the last and drowning out the sound of George's voice.

Ron wished it would stop, it was the first time he had heard his brother say anything more than a one syllable word since Fred had died. He craned his neck over to the right, leaning closer to Harry in order to hear what was being said. It didn't help much at all. He cursed the heavens for their disrespect.

In the end, it had been decided to bury Fred beneath the apple tree atop a nearby hill. Mr Weasley had spent hours scouting the fields surrounding the Burrow for the perfect spot and it had been Percy who had finally deemed this one worthy. Hermione, Ginny and Fleur had used the following hour to decorate the area ready for the funeral.

Delicate strings of forget-me-nots hung in the branches of the tree, garlands that were broken up by dozens of glittering fireflies that promised to light up the spot when darkness fell. Charlie and Bill planned to set off an entire box of Weasleys Wild-Fire Whiz-Bangs in tribute when twilight approached. It would be the defining moment.

As George fell silent, his words coming to a close, Mrs Weasley began to usher people back towards the house. Teary as she was, she was trying so hard to put on a brave face for everyone else's benefit and to carry on as normal. Ron knew this wasn't the case, twice already had he found her sat up in the early hours of the morning, sobbing into a handkerchief. Last night had been the worst of the two and for the first time since his brother's death, Ron had sat there with her, holding her in his arms and let his mother cry onto his shoulder.

Following the throng of family members into the warm and inviting kitchen of the Burrow, Ron wrapped his arms around himself and decided to settle near the door into the hall. He sank down into the rocking chair and leant back, closing his eyes, enjoying the heat radiating from the old range cooker as it took the chill away from his damp clothing. He couldn't face talking to anyone just yet and besides, everyone seemed perfectly content talking to each other anyway.

Five minutes passed before anyone came over to him and even then, the one who did took a very gentle approach by whispering, 'Are you all right?' Hermione's soft, brown eyes were mere inches from his own, her hand resting reassuringly against his arm.

Ron nodded, smiling at her, as he wistfully replied, 'Don't worry about me.' She scowled and he knew immediately that this had been the wrong thing to say. 'I'm fine, Hermione, really,' he added hastily.

She appeared to accept his latter reply and then questioned, 'Can we go upstairs and talk for a little while?'

There would be no point in saying no to her, so Ron rose from the chair, one of his arms still wrapped around himself and headed into the hall and up the rickety staircase. No one seemed to notice them leave, Mrs Weasley had just unveiled the food. He didn't feel up to eating though, no matter how hungry he was, his stomach was tied up into knots. Leftovers would be on the menu for the next few days whether people liked it or not.

Reaching his bedroom, he sat down on the edge of his bed as Hermione settled herself on Harry's camp bed, crossing her legs beneath herself. He would have liked to have been closer, to wrap his arm around her and hold her against him, but after everything, there never seemed to be a right time.

A short silence followed and he came to the conclusion that Hermione obviously wanted to tell him something, a something she was having trouble getting out. 'Ron,' she started, her voice faltering slightly. He lifted his head, returning her gaze and giving her his full attention. 'I'm leaving tomorrow. I don't know when I'll be back.'

Ron frowned, his forehead creasing up in confusion. 'Where are you going?' he responded quickly. 'You know that mum doesn't mind you staying. She said so yesterday. There's plenty of room.'

She smiled at him, a sympathetic smile that reflected in her eyes and she reached out for his hand in comfort. 'My parents,' she said. 'I have to go and get them. It's safe for them to come home and I don't think I can leave them there much longer… not knowing…' She didn't finish the sentence, but she didn't need to, he knew what she wanted to say.

'I'll come with you,' offered Ron, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

With a shake of her head, Hermione withdrew her hand and her eyes fell to the floor. 'No, Ron,' she argued weakly. 'You need to be here. You need to stay and be with your family.'

'But you're my family, too,' he said, wanting to get his feelings across before she could talk him out of it, 'and I don't want you to be alone. You can sit there and say whatever you want, but I'm still coming with you. We need to stick together.'

'Oh, Ron…'

He noticed the tears in her eyes before she did and leant forwards to wipe them away, the pad of his thumb grazing her skin. 'So, are you going to let me come?' he asked.

Hermione nodded, her cheeks now flushed with pink. 'You're hard to say no to, Ronald Weasley,' she replied.

Ron was on the verge of a witty reply, but decided against it last minute and instead got back to his feet, helping her to standing as he did so. He knew that the trip to Australia would be a difficult one. They would have to become accustomed to spending all their time together. The travelling alone would be the longest time he had ever spent in Hermione's company without anyone else around to interrupt. He wanted to be there for her, he wanted to prove that he wasn't the prat she once knew and that he could do this, and above all else he wanted to show her how much he cared about her.

Making for the door, Hermione appeared to hesitate, her gaze moving to focus on his face. He wanted to kiss her then and he knew she felt the same way. It still wasn't right though, a thought they both seemed to share as she broke the eye contact a second later and continued onto the landing.

In the wake of tragedy it was difficult for anyone to be truly happy without feeling the slightest pang of guilt. It could take days, weeks or even months, but he didn't mind waiting anymore, because at least he knew she felt the same way about him as he did her. He would wait as long as it took, and in the meantime cherish every moment he spent by her side.

As they reached the bottom step, Ron heard Fleur's voice loud and clear, and both he and Hermione smiled as they continued on to the kitchen.

'You should 'ave let me 'elp, zis is too much!' said Fleur, 'Bill, you should 'ave told her.'

It was amazing really, the way the family had expanded, the way there was a place for everyone. Two years ago, Mrs Weasley had hated the thought of having Fleur in her house, but now she welcomed her gladly and loved her like a daughter. She had always thought of Hermione in the same way, yet Ron couldn't help but wonder if that would change when they left.

Only time would tell and for now there was no need for it to be addressed, it could wait until the morning.

They slipped back into the room unnoticed and Ron stood himself beside Harry, merely watching the scene play out before him as Fleur trotted around the kitchen brandishing a tray of ham and cheese sandwiches. Perhaps he could eat after all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter is not mine. If it was, I'd be rich, which I can assure you that I am most definitely not.

**Summary: **Following Fred's funeral, Ron and Hermione are finally given the chance and the time to explore their newly found relationship, but is actually _being_ together as easy as they first thought it would be?

**Chapter 2**

Telling Mrs Weasley that Ron was leaving for Australia with Hermione didn't exactly go to plan. Whenever he found a spare minute in which to break the news, somebody or some_thing_ would interrupt. For the third time that morning he'd almost formed the words, they were on the tip of his tongue, when a loud explosion came from out in the garden and she'd gone running to find the source of the disturbance.

It turned out that George had snuck out late the previous evening, set up camp in the garage, where he had then worked seamlessly throughout the night on getting the remaining Whiz-Bangs to spell out Fred's name at the point of impact. Bangs, crashes and whizzes were not unheard of at the Burrow. Previous summers had been rife with blasts and black clouds of dust. It was the eerie silence left in their wake that people found unnerving. The laughter had gone. The cheery faces and the happy times were no more. It would take a lot to get that back.

At around midday, four hours before they were due to leave, Ron found his mother alone in the kitchen silently preparing dinner. He paused in the doorway at first, watching, noticing how she would occasionally lift her free hand to wipe away a stray tear.

Without a word, he walked over and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, not wanting to watch her suffer anymore. Too many tears had been shed this past year.

'I wish he would talk to me,' she said eventually, her voice cracking as she spoke. A clunk followed which signalled that her wand had fallen from her limp grip and into the kitchen sink. 'He shouldn't have to go through this alone.'

It didn't take a genius to figure out who she was talking about. George had barely spoken to anyone since leaving Hogwarts five days previous. Ron had tried, _everyone_ had tried, but he simply wanted to be left well alone and would hide away up in his room for hours on end, only making an appearance at meal times.

'He will, Mum, give him time,' said Ron.

Mrs Weasley sniffled and then patted him on the back, stepped away from his embrace to continue on with the dinner preparations.

Although now didn't really seem the right time, Ron needed to tell her soon, so offered up his help and spent the next ten minutes peeling potatoes and carrots and dropping them into a nearby saucepan. Reaching the end of his tenth carrot, he risked a glance towards his mother and then offered her a small smile when she returned his gaze.

'You're father will be home soon, can you set the table for me? Get Harry to help you,' said Mrs Weasley, moving the saucepan away from him.

It was now or never.

Ron cleared his throat, wiping his hands on his trouser legs. 'Mum?' he started, following her over towards the cooker. 'There's something I need to tell you. It's about Hermione and me.'

The smile she offered him was warm and gentle, and she simply questioned, 'Can it wait until later, dear? After dinner?' She turned back to the cooker, a pan handle clutched in her left hand. 'Andromeda and Teddy are joining us and I want to make sure everything's perfect,' she added weakly, lighting up the range and taking away his opportunity to argue. Not that arguing would help the situation, at the mere mention of Teddy's name; Ron had seen the fresh tears glisten in his mother's eyes.

Stepping away from her, Ron turned his attentions to finding Harry instead, heading out into the garden and across the yard.

Another hour or so wouldn't hurt.

A large picnic blanket had been laid out in the middle of the grass, a cluster of people sat in the middle of it. As he drew closer, still unnoticed, he savoured the sight of his family, seemingly happy for the first time in days and enjoying the hazy summer sun.

Bill and Charlie were sat side by side, heads together, talking animatedly. From Charlie's rapid arm movements, he guessed there could be only one topic of conversation; dragons. Fleur was sat beside Bill, her left hand resting gently against his arm as she helped Ginny in making daisy chains. Harry was watching, a look of awe and determination on his face. Beside him, Hermione, lying on her front and teasing Crookshanks with a dandelion she'd picked. Percy was no where to be seen.

Reaching the blanket, Ron decided to take up residence on the other side of Harry and then lay back, his arms behind his head, staring up at the clouds. The dinner table could wait five minutes or so.

With a sigh, he idly lifted a hand, tracing shapes in the clouds with his fingertips and taking pleasure in a rare moment in which to relax. It didn't last long though, several minutes later Crookshanks dived at him, swiping wildly at his hand and drawing blood.

'ARRGGH!' cried Ron, jumping up and throwing the orange fluff ball away from him. Crookshanks narrowed his eyes immediately, back arching as he began to hiss angrily. 'Stupid cat! You get him away from me!' He glared at Hermione when the cat made a move towards his leg.

'Ron!' Hermione chided, reaching over and scooping the cat up in her arms, scratching at his head. 'Don't shout, he doesn't know, he was only playing,' she added in a whisper.

'Playing? You call that _playing?_' he shot back. 'He could have taken my hand off, Hermione.' To prove a point, he brought his fingers to his lips, trying to stop the flow of blood while scowling mercilessly at the cat purring happily in her arms.

Everyone had turned to look at them now, Fleur gazing over with a look of disdain, a daisy chain hanging lifelessly in her hand. Harry appeared amused, as though he'd been waiting for this to happen for days.

Hermione shook her head and got to her feet. 'Oh, don't exaggerate, Ron,' she replied. 'It's just a scratch. You can fix that in a heartbeat.'

'That's not the point,' he answered sullenly, glancing to Harry for support, but all he received was a nonchalant shrug.

Ron didn't know why he was arguing with her really, especially about such a silly thing, but once he'd started he felt uncompelled to stop. In a most obscure way, arguing with Hermione was where he felt most comfortable. It was familiar ground. Although, seeing as they were supposed to be leaving for the other side of the world in several hours, perhaps it wasn't the best thing he could have done.

By the time he caught up with her, she was halfway across the garden and showed complete disinterest in what he had to say.

'Did I make a mistake in thinking you'd changed?' asked Hermione with an indignant sniff.

He shook his head, falling into step with her and beginning to gush apologies. Something had to be done; things had been going so well after all. 'He bugs me, you know that,' he supplied feebly. 'He decided he didn't like me from the word go and no matter what I do, that cat just won't let up. He hates me.'

'He doesn't hate you, Ron,' she answered, a bemused smile crossing her features.

Deciding to take this a good sign, Ron was about to suggest going back and joining the others, when his mother burst out of the back door, her hands full of cutlery. 'There you are!' she exclaimed. 'I was beginning to think you'd got lost. Andromeda will be here soon.' She smiled as her eyes fell onto his companion. 'Oh! You don't mind helping, do you, Hermione dear?'

Hermione beamed, putting Crookshanks down in the yard and taking a handful of forks. 'Not at all, Mrs Weasley,' she replied kindly, making her way into the kitchen.

Ron stood bewildered for a moment. That had not been the plan. His mother offered the knives she had left in her hand to him, so with a sigh, he reluctantly took them, joining Hermione in setting the kitchen table.

Ten minutes later, the conversation turned to Hermione's parents, and Mrs Weasley soon began to ask when she planned to go and get them from Australia. An awkward silence followed, until Ron supplied, 'Actually, Mum, that was what I wanted to talk to you about earlier.'

Thankfully, Hermione took the reigns from there, and softly interjected, 'I'm going later this afternoon, once Mrs Tonks and Teddy have gone home. I really don't want to leave Mum and Dad out there any longer than I have to.'

'Of course not, you should go as soon as possible,' said Mrs Weasley, and Ron shot a look in Hermione's direction just in time to see a tear drip off her chin. 'Do you need any clothes? You could borrow some of Ginny's.' A whooshing sound from behind them indicated that Mr Weasley had arrived home and the sound of someone patting fabric confirmed it. 'Hello, Arthur,' she said absently before continuing on with her previous train of thought, 'Do you need any food for the journey? I could pack you a few cauldron cakes, or-'

'It's fine, Mrs Weasley, really,' Hermione cut in before she got carried away.

'Are Harry and Ron going to see you off?'

At the mention of his name, Ron looked up again, dropping the saucer he had in his hands with a clatter. His mother frowned over at him before clearing the mess up with a flick of her wand and handing him a fresh stack.

'Oh, well…' Hermione suddenly appeared flustered.

Ron took matters into his own hands; the time for being a coward had passed. 'I'm going with her,' he told his mother with a smile. When Hermione shot a fugitive glance in his direction, he added, 'She didn't get a choice.'

A second later, he felt his father's arm clap him across the back, and he said, sounding rather proud, 'Good man. That's my boy.'

Even though tears were streaming down her face once more, Mrs Weasley smiled at him, her cheeks aglow. 'You always were a good lad,' she replied, her voice cracking, 'always doing the right thing.'

And Ron knew immediately that he really was.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter is not mine. If it was, I'd be rich, which I can assure you that I am most definitely not.

**Summary: **Following Fred's funeral, Ron and Hermione are finally given the chance and the time to explore their newly found relationship, but is actually _being_ together as easy as they first thought it would be?

**A/N:** I'm sorry for the wait on this one, I'm back to work and things have been crazy over the past couple of days. Every time I've sat down to write, something else has come up and I've had to abandon it once more. Unfortunately, because of this, the chapter's no where near as long as I wanted it to be and seems a little staggered in places. I hope you still enjoy it though and don't start throwing the rotten fruit just yet.

**Chapter 3**

After finally breaking the news to Mrs Weasley, dinner had been a very pleasant affair. They'd all sat around the table, passing dishes back and forth, and chatting about silly little things like the weather, the sudden flourish of business back in Diagon Alley and Mrs Tonks's gnome problem. It felt wonderful that for the first time in over three years the biggest problem in their lives were a few unwanted garden pests.

The biggest news was saved until they'd all (with the exception of Ron) finished eating, when Mr Weasley announced to the table that Mr Ollivander would be returning to his shop within the next couple of months.

Ron grinned, forgetting the fact his mouth was full of a fresh helping of mashed potato, and declared, 'Brilliant, it's about time I got a new one! Using that two-faced, traitorous, scumbag's wand was starting to get old.'

A rather uncomfortable silence fell over the table. Percy cleared his throat and then began to polish his glasses on his robes as if nothing had happened. Mrs Weasley jumped to her feet, grabbed the gravy boat and did the only thing she could think of, asking with gusto, 'Anyone for seconds?' Several hands shot up and the awkwardness fell away, dishes and plates doing the rounds once more, cutlery scraping against china as people began to eat again.

For the couple of hours following, Ron, Harry, Hermione and Ginny sat in the garden playing with Teddy. Mrs Weasley, Mrs Tonks and Fleur watched from a bench near the kitchen door, sipping on glasses of icy pumpkin juice. For the most part, it was quite funny watching Harry trying to play Godfather. He wasn't particularly good with children, having had no practise. As usual, Hermione took the no-nonsense approach, telling him and showing him exactly what to do and criticising his technique.

At around four that afternoon, Ron trudged down the staircase with a trunk in a tow and a heavy travelling cloak. Hermione sent him straight back upstairs with a recently transfigured suitcase and a light jacket. 'We're going to be in the company of _Muggles_ in Australia, Ronald,' she'd said, 'not witches and wizards in the middle of a snowstorm.' He missed the giggle and adoring look she gave him as he turned on his heel.

Following that he'd simply given up and let her dress him instead. He had to admit, it was a whole lot easier that way.

At five they finally said their goodbyes and Hermione led Ron to a spot in the middle of the garden, barking instructions as they went. They planned to Apparate to Grimmauld Place and then catch an underground train to Heathrow airport. Ron was particularly anxious about this and had spent a good thirty minutes asking Harry for advice. Hermione, however, had been more concerned that he would do a 'Mr Weasley' and get overexcited. He reassured her that he wouldn't.

Upon reaching the airport Ron found himself slightly overwhelmed, so settled for following Hermione around and only speaking when spoken to. He hadn't realised _quite_ how complicated Muggles made the whole ordeal of flying to another country.

There had been a minor delay moments before checking in their baggage when he decided he'd rather keep his wand with him than in his suitcase. He saw no reason why he couldn't keep it with him. Hermione sighed and then repeated for the fifth time that afternoon why the wand had to stay where it was. It seemed a ridiculous reason to him, if Muggles didn't know about them, how could they possibly class a wand as a weapon? What on earth did they think he'd do with it? The argument carried on for a good ten minutes, right up until Hermione hissed at him to be quiet and told him exactly where he could stick his wand if he didn't give it a rest.

Unfortunately for Hermione, that hadn't been the end, the moment they sat down on the plane Ron officially lost it and spent the next two hours exclaiming over and jabbing at the recently installed in-seat video system.

Hermione had made the decision that they would fly straight there, merely changing at each airport and not bothering to stop the night anywhere. By the time they boarded their flight at Singapore; Ron was exhausted and had fallen asleep straight away. He knew this because Hermione had taken great pleasure in poking him in the ribs to announce that his snoring had disturbed half of the cabin. Yet, glancing around, no one appeared to be showing the slightest interest in either of them. He came to the conclusion the only one his snoring had disturbed had been Hermione herself.

They had been travelling for almost two days when they finally arrived in Alice Springs and it took another hour to find their hotel. Both tired and irritable, Ron only aided in riling Hermione up that little bit more by taking charge of unlocking the door. This took him well over five minutes. Key cards; now _they_ were interesting.

At approximately 7pm (Australian time) on the second day, Ron collapsed onto his bed with a heavy and weary sigh. 'I have no desire to _ever_ do that again,' he grunted, closing his eyes and burying his head in the fluffy white pillows.

Complete heaven.

'We can't Apparate home; I've already told you that.'

On the other side of the room, Hermione had placed her suitcase on her bed and was in the process of laying out pyjama's, towels and wash cloths. She didn't bother to look up when he groaned in protest.

'Fine,' Ron mumbled.

Rolling onto his side, with his back to her, he let a breath go, allowing himself to relax for a short while. They may have slept in the same room before, but it still made for an awkward situation, Harry had always been there at the time, too. It didn't help that Ron found himself pining after Hermione whenever she left the room. Adjoining bedrooms had been suggested; only she had disregarded that idea immediately, saying how it would be silly to shell out the extra money when they were quite capable of sharing.

The seconds slipped away into minutes and the minutes into hours and Ron had no idea how long he lay there, silent and completely motionless. At one point, when night had fallen and the room lay in complete darkness, he risked turning back over so that he could watch Hermione sleeping soundlessly in the bed beside his. He couldn't see her face; she too had turned away and pulled the covers up to her chin.

Trying to be as quiet as possible, he sat up groggily, brushing his hair from his face, his eyes darting around the in shadows as he gained his bearings once more. He moved off the edge of the bed, stretched and yawned, and then crept across the room to where he had placed his suitcase.

He dug out a thick jumper, roughly pulled it over his head and tiptoed out onto the balcony, perching on the edge of a chair. Resting his elbow on the table beside him, he propped his head up on his hand, his eyes focused hazily on the lights below as he surrendered to his thoughts.

Ron hadn't been this tired in a long time, but he still couldn't bring himself to sleep just yet. He knew why he couldn't sleep of course. He'd known for a while. The time drew closer when he would loose Hermione. They had spent the past year together, barely leaving one another's side and then tomorrow, that would all be over, she'd go back to her parents and he'd go back to his and the journey would end. He couldn't bear for her to abandon him like that; he needed her too much for things to simply go back to the way they were before.

Of course, saying all of this to her, he found difficult. It would take time and careful planning, he would have to pick the right moment and say the right things and Ron wasn't entirely sure he had it in him.

He knew one thing though, it didn't hurt anyone to try, and after all they'd been through together, it was the least he could do. He had offered to come with her for a reason, to prove that he would stand by her no matter what and that he cared. He would be there until the end no matter what happened.


End file.
